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Broken Memories - The Ian Geiberger Story
Robert Dawson. I shiver every time I hear that name. Do you know who Robert is? Do you really? Robert...He is a dangerous man. My name is Ian Geiberger, and I was a former member of his assassin clan "The Assassins". We were a powerful clan. Everybody knew of us. We were the fastest, smartest, and most effective assassins of the time. Then Robert moved on to greater things. Much greater things. I will tell you my story and my experience as the one who escaped. The Assassins were skilled. We were hired by everbody. Me, I was one of the lower assassins, almost like an apprentice, but still good enough to be part of this amazing clan. I grew up in a small, poor town in Germany. Everyday, it was a boring life, so I entertained myself by climbing up walls, throwing things at people from trees, and pickpocketing people in the outskirts. It was a sad life, but one I had to live. My father was dead, and my mother stayed in a little box i constructed out of random material on the ground, taking care of my little brother Bruno. I spent most of my time outside. One day, a man came walking through town. He was followed by about 4 other men, all in the trees and rooftops. These men were menacing, the way they walked intimidated me. I ran as fast as possible out of town, but that required me to run on the rooftops, a few minutes after running, a knife flew past my head, caught on the piece of shirt just below the scratch on my neck, and then hit the wall i was trying to climb. I was stuck there. The Assassins were behind me. I screamed, screamed so loudly no one heard me. I was grabbed by the neck and thrown down to the ground. I passed out. I woke up in the back of a carriage. No light, just the sound of horses and men yelling. I began to cry, the helplessness I was feeling was unbelievable. I was wiping away tears for about an hour when the carriage stopped, and I was thrown out of the back. a knife was thrown straight at my face. I caught it, surprising myself even, and then dropped and stared at it. I was an inch from death, and death scared me at an age of 6 years. I looked up, and I saw all 5 assassins. In front was the one with the most armor and weapons, he was also the one who threw the knife at me. I stared, and they stared back. The one in front took a step forward, and I took a step back. Step after step, he came closer, because he had a larger stride than me. I stared right into his eyes, and in the next instance I was given a knife. A knife. There were engravings on it. A snake on one side and a vulture on the other. One of the assassins in the back yelled something at me. Something in another language, but he motioned throwing the knife toward a post. I threw it, missed, and I was handed another knife. I tried again, and this time, I hit the post. Although it didn't stick, it rebounded off. I could tell the one next to me was impressed when i heard his "grunt of approval". Instead of being thrown back in the pitch black carriage, i was put into the middle, cluttered by everything from bombs to feathers. It wasn't a luxury, but somehow, it excited me. It was an adventure. My mother, whom I didn't build a strong bond with, was the last thing I was thinking about. We traveled everywhere. France, Poland, Spain, Norway, etc. I learned French, Spanish, Italian, and expanded my German vocabulary, for in fact there was a German memory. These men were my fathers, they were the people I looked up to. However, I was young and neive, and didn't understand the real purpose of these people. I had finally learned the names of these people after about 4 months (they barely called for each other with their names, they mostly whistled). Their names were (without last names) Ricardo, Primotho, Ihtso, Haklem, and Robert. Robert Dawson. These were the names of my fathers. My 5 fathers whom all cared for me. Some more than others. I grew especially strong to Ihtso, he was a good man. He trained me personally, and taught me many assassin tactics like throwing knives, using bombs, and tailing. One day, as we were practicing our bomb thowing. Robert called everyone over (whistling of course) and he began to speak of America. All the other assassins seemed to know where this "America" was. I had heard stories of large land, far away across the large oceans, and wondered if this is the place he was talking about. He talked of killing and important man. Immediately, my mind was set. This important man was automatically a bad man. We were hired by man in Genova, Italy. An we were to execute our plan as soon as possible. We got a boat to this "America", fortunately, this boat ride was a lot different than my carriage ride. It was a boat reserved just for us, for assassins. As we started to drift away, I thought of my mother, and my little brother Bruno. I broke down, seeing how far I have come and how different I was since the beginning was astonishing. It seemed to quickly a change for me. I tried to refrain from sleeping, for I got seasick easily (I just found this out). It was a boring trip, and a long one as well. I got sick, and threw up many times. Unfortunately, I wasn't alone. Ihtso was sick as well, and he seemed much worse than me. Day after day, we sailed on, not knowing if we would ever reach land or not. It was dark, so I slept. When I awoke, I was laying on the sand. The boat sailing away, and the assassin's tents were up. The first thing that I noticed were the trees, so many trees. neverending trees. I ran into a tent (not knowing whos it was) and was about to ask whoever was inside where we were. As I ran into the tent, I tripped, for I still wasn't one of the best assassins out there. And fell directly onto the body of Robert. Why Robert. Instead of him flipping over and and threatening me, he slowly turned over, looked me right in the eyes, and I stared back into his. His eyes were terrifying, so much hate packed into a small sphere. He told me to go and see if Ihtso was ok. I quickly got up and exited the tent, for there was an eerie feel in his tent. I looked in each tent, not knowing which one was Ihtso's. When I found his tent, I asked if it was ok to come inside. He motioned for me to come. I kneeled down next to him, saw his face, and jumped back in horror. His face was covered in red bulging specs. Every single part of his face was covered with disgusting, repulsive specs. I knew he was done form this was it for Ihtso. I didn't say a single word to him, I ran out and sprinted directly into Robert's tent. I told him what had happened. He got up slowly, told me to stay in the tent, and walked out. A few seconds later, a gunshot was heard. I curled up in a little ball, and began to cry. Robert entered the tent again... This is the end of the sample to Ian Geiberger's book - Broken Memories - The Ian Geiberger Story If you wish to purchase this book, please contact RobertDawsonWiki@gmail.com To go back to the List of Pages, click here.